Countdown to Destroy Yourself
by Sammy's Missing Shoe
Summary: "We spent our whole lives helping other people, but I am begging you, little brother, for once, let someone else help us. Please." Set in season seven, before The Born Again Identity. Deals with Sam's "coping" methods when it comes to his hallucinations of Lucifer. Deals with sensitive issues, full warnings inside. Hurt/Tortured!Sam, Protective/Big Brother!Dean.
1. Telling Silence

**AN:** Long author's note ahead. So I added a note on my profile that stories may not be as frequent from me as they used to be, but hey, that's what happens in college. I'm still always taking requests and love chatting with y'all, I might just be less active as an author. Aside from this story, obviously. Now, in regards to this fic, this is something I've felt compelled to write for a very long time. _Supernatural_ undoubtedly has its flaws, as done any show that's been on the air for so long, but one that I can't ever let myself look past is in season seven when Sam is hallucinating Lucifer, and Dean teaches him that pain is a good coping method for it. The show had a great opportunity to discuss the dangers of self-harm, but that never happens. All we see as viewers is Sam hurting himself and it actually solves his problems. So, I wrote this fic to address the issues that the show basically ignored promptly after creating them. That said, the majority of this fic takes place from Sam's perspective, and I want to be clear, **his mindset is not a healthy one.** By the end of this story Sam realises his mistakes, so do not let the first tone of this story influence you in any way. As you can probably guess, this fic has quite a few-

 **Warnings:** Self-harm, explicit and implicit torture, along with references to rape and non-consensual activities. Another thing I hated in the show was completely glossing over how brutalised Sam was in the Cage in every way imaginable, and the Lucifer in this story doesn't hold any punches about reminding Sam what he did to him. Nothing in that respect is ever explicit, but that doesn't mean it doesn't warrant a warning. Proceed with caution, because this is definitely the hardest and probably most serious fic I've ever written.

* * *

It was always the silence that gave Sam away. Whether it was the silence after Dean would say his name to try and snap him out of a hallucination, or the small second of silence after Dean would ask him if he was alright, the silence always told Dean what Sam wouldn't. It could be boiled down to one pretty simple message though.

Sam wasn't okay.

Sometimes digging his thumb into his palm until it bled didn't always make the Devil go away. So Sam would try other scars. Old bullet wounds, remnants of the tortures he'd suffered on Earth, _on Earth, Sam, you're on Earth, always on Earth,_ and for a while, that worked.

Until it didn't. No amount of clawing his nails into old scars would make Lucifer stop blowing in Sam's ear just to annoy him, no matter how hard he'd press his fingers Lucifer never put away the freaking guitar so he could (very poorly) serenade Sam.

So then- Sam started getting reckless.

If they were on a hunt, Dean might yell, "Sam, look out!" But Sam wouldn't look out, so he'd end up being hurled into a tree, or pinned up against the wall in some supernatural chokehold. Or maybe he'd jump out of the way of something a second later than he normally would, earning himself a bruise or another cut that he could eventually dig into. Sam liked it the most when that happened. Best of all, Dean hadn't seemed to have caught on. Or even if he did, he didn't say anything about it. Besides, Dean was the one who had shown him that pain made Lucifer leave him alone, he couldn't get mad at Sam for taking his advice. Except for the day Sam took that advice too far…

* * *

"I told you, Dean, I'm fine." Sam insisted for what must have been the dozenth time that day.

"Sam, nearly every damn hunt we've been on lately has ended up with you getting hurt. Your reflexes have been hell, and I don't need Lucifer screaming in your ear if I'm trying to tell you to duck."

"It's not Lucifer. I'm just-"

"Whatever you are it isn't ready for hunting. You need a break."

"I don't-"

"This isn't up for discussion." Dean cut him off. "We're taking some time off."

"What about the Leviathans?" Sam pointed out. "Those need to be taken care of as soon as possible. We've never seen anything like them before, and still have no idea how to stop them, so we-"

"So we need to be careful and have our heads in the right place, or we're gonna get our asses kicked out there." Dean said, and then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face to calm down. "I need you sharp out there, Sammy. If I keep letting you hunt like this and you get real hurt, or worse… I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Even though Sam's stomach clenched in fear at the thought of going so long without feeling some kind of pain, he couldn't deny that Dean had a point. Not to mention that if his recklessness got Dean hurt instead of him, then it would never be worth making Lucifer go away. He could deal with the Devil relentlessly flicking the back of his head as long as he had Dean.

"Alright." Sam finally conceded.

Dean visibly relaxed at Sam's acceptance, albeit hesitant acceptance. "Thank you. Besides, you could use some more time to sleep,"

"I sleep plenty."

"No, you wait until you think I'm asleep, and then you sneak out and drink yourself half to death and come back before I wake up."

Sam dropped eye contact at that, embarrassed that one of his many secrets had been discovered. At least it wasn't _the_ secret.

"You gotta stop hiding things from me, Sam. I can't help you with anything if you don't talk to me."

That could have been Sam's chance. His opportunity to open up to Dean about it, about _everything._ But- why be honest when you could be a Winchester?

"I'm sorry, Dean. It won't happen again."

"That it though? Nothing else I should know about?" _"C'mon, Sammy, tell me the truth."_ Dean internally pleaded.

"Yeah, that's it."

Dean then figured that he had pushed Sam's limits enough for one day. He'd gotten Sam to take a break. He could talk to Sam about his self-destructive and borderline suicidal tendencies later. For now though, he decided that they both needed their rest. And he'd make damn sure Sam actually slept this time.

"This place looks good as any." Dean said as he pulled into the lot of their latest motel. They checked in, grabbed some fresh clothes, but for once, they left their weapons behind. Besides the usual gun Dean kept under his pillow, and the demon killing knife anyway. They may not be planning to hunt any monsters, but that didn't mean that the monsters wouldn't try to hunt them.

Each of the brothers made their way into their beds, Dean's being the closest to the door, as usual.

"Night, Sammy."

"Night, Dean."

Before Sam could so much as close his eyes, he heard a laugh. _His_ laugh.

"Oh, that's adorable. You talking like you're gonna be falling asleep tonight. Seriously, you are just too cute sometimes."

Sam simply clenched his jaw in response. He couldn't possibly try to talk to Lucifer with Dean barely five feet away from him.

"Are you really ignoring me again?" Lucifer pouted. "Oh, wait. Is this about Dean? You worried he'd feel a little left out? Third wheel kind of thing? He could always join in on our games too." Lucifer started moving over to Dean, and that was what set Sam off.

"Don't." Sam warned in a barely audible whisper.

"Aww, there's my Sammy!" Seemingly satisfied with Sam's reaction, Lucifer sat himself down on Sam's bed. Far, _far_ too close.

Wanting nothing more than to dart up and get the hell out of that way too small room, but knowing that Dean would stop him and ask what was wrong, Sam could only stiffen in horror in response to the chill spreading throughout his body. This scenario felt too familiar. Sam trapped, Lucifer wrongly and intimately close, cold creeping through him…

"I'll make you a deal." Lucifer said. "I'll let you sleep, if-" Sam nearly hurled when Lucifer rested his hand just above Sam's knee. "You be the big spoon tonight."

Breaking point reached, Sam shot up out of his bed and hurried to the bathroom. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"Just using the bathroom, Dean." Sam was grateful that he managed to keep the terror from slipping through his voice. He splashed almost painfully warm water on his face. He'd had enough cold for one night. Hell, a _lifetime._ He welcomed the brief burn, relief momentarily flooding him as he focused on this Earthly pain. Not his memories, not the imaginary cold, but the real, raw, and _intentional_ pain. He was in control of it, not Lucifer.

"Big brother's not gonna sleep until you do, and you're not going to unless you do what I tell you." Lucifer cooed.

" _Use the pain, Sam. Show that_ you're _in charge of your own mind."_

Sam lifted his shirt to reveal the wound from their most recent hunt, about a two-inch-long gash left from a knife that a shifter had grazed him with. Dean had done a good job of stitching him up, so it'd almost be shame to undo his hard work. He briefly paused, wondering if this was worth it. But then Lucifer wrapping his arms around Sam from behind and starting to nibble on his ear was motivation enough for Sam to unapologetically jam a finger into the wound, abruptly splitting a few of the stitches. The pain temporarily caused the icy breath at the back of his neck to vanish, but it all too quickly returned.

"Trying to get rid of me?" Lucifer asked with a pout. "You're hurting my feelings, bunk-buddy."

The hauntingly familiar nickname pushed Sam even further beyond his breaking point, so he forced his unsteady hand to probe deeper into his wound, barely managing to suppress a shout, but he was lucky enough for only a small gasp to slip past instead. He bit his lip to ground himself, panting harshly through his nose. He had closed his eyes at the bout pain, breathing unsteadily as he internally pleaded for Lucifer to be gone when he opened them again. He waited for several more seconds, and then opened his eyes.

He was alone.

Sam sighed a breath of pure gratitude. He then opened the cabinet and retrieved their make-shift medical kit to mend his busted stitches. Just before he started the first motion however, there was a pounding at the door, causing him to jump.

"Sammy? You alright in there?"

Dammit, he'd been in here suspiciously long, so now Dean was right outside the door! What should he do, what should he do?!

"I uh-" Sam took a deep breath to calm himself down. "I dropped something and when I bent over to pick it up I popped some of my stitches."

"What?! Alright, let me in, I'll fix it."

Exhaling in satisfaction that Dean had bought the lie, he quickly wiped the blood from his hands and opened the door. Dean immediately started accessing the injury, and then huffed.

"Why didn't you come get me?" Dean asked as he brought the kit out into the room, and silently instructed Sam to sit down on his bed.

"I didn't want to wake you up. I could've handled it myself."

"Bull." Dean said. "You know you'd be pissed if I tried to pull that kinda crap on you if I was hurt." Dean rethreaded the stitch, and got into position. "Get ready, this will probably hurt."

" _Good."_ Was Sam's instinctive thought. He barely even braced himself for the first stitch, hell, he practically _welcomed_ the pain when it came. _"Real pain. Lucifer wouldn't let you imagine Dean patching up a wound. You know this pain, you're the one controlling this. You're in charge of your own mind. Real, Sam, this is real…"_

"What the hell, Sam?"

Oh, God, what did he find? "What?" Sam asked innocently.

"All the rest of these injuries look like crap. How many other times have your stitches popped without you telling me?"

"They weren't bad enough that I needed help."

"You been picking at them or something?"

Did-did Dean know? No, of course he didn't know. He could _never_ know. "No, it happens when I'm sleeping. I guess I've been moving a lot in my sleep." That much wasn't a lie. When he could actually manage to fall asleep, he was plagued with nothing but horrific nightmares and flashbacks of the Cage.

Luckily Dean seemed to accept the answer. "Alright. But you shouldn't be trying to take care of these by yourself. You tell me if this happens again, got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Alright, here comes the whiskey." Dean warned before gently splashing the liquid over Sam's wound. He winced at Sam's pained grunt, but luckily it didn't seem to hurt for long. "Okay, you're done. You get some sleep now, hear me?"

"Yes, Dean." Sam said, and he really meant it. Lucifer hadn't shown up since all of this had gone down, so Sam truly believed that he could finally get some rest. He waited for Dean to settle down in his bed before Sam went to his and did the same. He opted to lay down on his bad side, hoping that the pressure on his injury would keep Lucifer out of his dreams as well. After what felt like an eternity, Sam Winchester closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

* * *

 **AN:** This fic does not get any kinder from here until the third chapter. The next chapter is fully written out, I simply need to transfer it over from my notebook to my laptop, so hopefully I won't keep you all waiting too long for chapter two. Until then, I hope you will be held over by this-

 **Sneak Peek:** "(Sam) knew that these tortures weren't real, but that didn't make them hurt any less."

I fully understand how intense this story is, it's taking a huge toll on me as well, so if you truly don't feel comfortable continuing then you are by no means obligated to do so. If you have anything you would like to say about the story thus far though, please feel free to review, or if you just need someone to talk to about the issues addressed in this fic, my inbox is always open. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I will see you all again soon.


	2. A Lesson in Control

**AN:** Remember those violence/gore warnings? Yeah, those come into play **bigtime** here. As do the ones in regards to **self-harm** , they are very prominent in this chapter, so please be advised and proceed with caution. And there are also a few implications of rape, but like I said at the beginning, nothing ever happens in this fic in that respect. It has meant a lot to me to see how many people are interested in this story, and I hope that if any of you are dealing with any of these issues that you seek out some help soon, and take care of yourselves. So thank you for all the follows and favourites so far, and remember to always keep fighting, guys.

* * *

Sam choked on the acrid stench of blood and filth permeating through the air. The chain constricting around his neck wasn't exactly helping him breathe either. Lucifer had left his limbs free this time, probably just because he got off on watching Sam helplessly squirm.

"So glad you finally decided to get some shut eye." Lucifer said. "Think all the lack of sleep was starting to mess with your head."

"Th-this isn't real." Sam sputtered, only to further lose oxygen as Lucifer tightened the chain again, crushing his windpipe all the more.

"Maybe not." Lucifer shrugged. "But thinking that doesn't seem to be helping you. If this is all a dream, why haven't you managed to wake yourself up yet?"

It was true. Sam hadn't believed that he was actually back in the Cage, until he'd been reliving it for what felt like _hours._ He'd told himself, _"Wake up"_ more times than he could count, but it wasn't working. He knew these tortures weren't real, but that didn't make them hurt any less. Dying in a dream usually meant that he would wake up, but Lucifer seemed to know that too. So he made sure to keep Sam alive, which honestly made him get more creative.

Speaking of being forcibly kept alive, just before Sam felt himself slipping away due to asphyxiation, the chain encircling his throat disappeared. He collapsed onto his hands and knees on the floor of the Cage, panting and coughing on his forsaken breath. He brought up a hand to the raw skin on his neck, flinching at its sensitivity. He heard footsteps approaching, and he forced himself to look up, reluctantly meeting Lucifer's predatory gaze. The second he even considered getting back to his feet, Lucifer released a vicious backhand that knocked Sam onto his back.

"Know your place, Sam." The disturbingly playful undertone Lucifer had before had completely vanished, and Sam felt actively more afraid. Lucifer was always worse when he wasn't enjoying himself too much. He hated being bored. Whenever he was bored, that was always when he'd-

Sam swallowed. He couldn't think about that, _wouldn't_ think about that. If his screwed up subconscious was trying to make him as miserable as possible right now, the worst thing he could do was fuel it with memories of Lucifer's most humiliating and demeaning game.

Sam's heart nearly stopped when Lucifer started straddling him, pinning his down his hands with his knees. But then Lucifer took out a scalpel, and Sam was actually _relieved_ by the sight of it. Small victories he supposed.

"I think it's time for a lesson in control." Lucifer practically sing-songed. "Everything you have, is because I allow it."

 _"Not real."_

Lucifer's icy hand almost lovingly wrapped around Sam's damaged neck, his cold fingers further agitating the skin, so Sam couldn't help but let out a small whimper.

"And at any given moment," Lucifer continued. "I can take it away. For example, your breath." His hand promptly tightened around Sam's neck, and Sam immediately went rigid beneath his unforgiving grip. Sam helplessly writhed any part of his body that he could still move. His legs kicked, his hips bucked, his arms strained beneath Lucifer's knees. It wasn't long before Lucifer released the hold on his neck, and Sam was heaving in grateful breaths, not even caring about the awful taste the air left in his mouth.

 _"Not real."_

All too quickly, Lucifer took advantage of Sam panting in oxygen by grabbing his jaw to force his mouth open. The scalpel began tracing his lips with sickening intimacy, and then even slipped past, teasing his tongue with the blade.

"Or maybe that pesky but oh so talented tongue." He winked, and Sam clenched his eyes shut at the horrific memories brought up by that statement.

 _"Not real."_

Lucifer wasted no time in forcing Sam's eyes open too, letting go of his mouth.

"Or those pretty, pretty eyes." The scalpel nicked the top of Sam's eyelid, and Sam felt the blood trickle down his cheek in a gross parody of a tear. Sam tried so hard, yet failed, not to shiver for fear of further piercing his eye.

 _"Not real."_

He knew he was whimpering now, but he'd done much worse in Lucifer's presence before. It wasn't like he had any dignity left to lose.

The scalpel then glided past his eye, and flicked his earlobe.

"What about the ears, Sammy? You don't really need those, it's not like you listen to me anyway."

 _"Not real."_

"Hey." Lucifer grabbed his jaw again, forcing Sam to maintain eye contact with him. "I'm trying to let you pick for once. C'mon, which of those do you want to lose? You know I'm not a very patient guy. Choose."

Sam closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was in control of this, because this was in his mind, this was all a dream, this wasn't _real!_

So Sam chose. He chose defiance, and he spit in Lucifer's face.

The atmosphere of the Cage immediately shifted. The air dropped several degrees, and Lucifer's eyes changed from their icy blue to an even stonier and more chilling grey. Before Sam even had the chance to be scared, Lucifer swiped the scalpel across Sam's throat, and stood up. He watched passively as Sam choked on his own blood, hands desperately scrabbling at his neck to stop to blood flow.

"I'll see you when you wake up, bunk-buddy. And I'm not going to be happy."

And with that, Sam felt himself sit upright, still clutching his throat, but all the blood was gone, as was the Cage. He was in a motel room, his and Dean's motel room. He'd done it. He'd made it out of that nightmare, he was finally-

"You poor, clueless, little bitch."

 _"_ No." Sam's stomach clenched at the sound of Lucifer's voice right behind him. He started to panickedly reach for the wound Dean had just patched up again, but two icy hands firmly gripped him by the wrists. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't break free from Lucifer's grasp, which made no damn sense because _he isn't real, how is this happening,_ why _is this happening?!_

Lucifer then yanked Sam right up against his cold chest, increasing Sam's panic. If possible, it got even worse as Lucifer leaned in to hiss his icy breath in Sam's ear, and Sam futilely writhed to try to get away.

"It doesn't matter if you're awake, dreaming, or _dead_. You will never be rid of me, because you. Belong. To _me."_ Each word was punctuated by Lucifer further tightening his grip on Sam's wrists until Sam felt the bones grinding together. Sam choked on a gasp, trying to desperately to break free, but then Lucifer let go.

Instantly darting up, Sam ran for the bathroom, and quickly closed and locked the door behind him. Not that he really thought that a locked door would keep the imaginary Devil away, but he just had to do _something._

An angry pounding on the door caused Sam to jump.

"You can't hide from me, Sammy!"

Maybe not, but he could at least try to banish him for a while. Sam lifted his shirt again, and all too eagerly and hastily dug his finger into the wound. Blood oozed out of it, along with other vile substances. The pain was astronomical, but the pounding on the door didn't stop.

Sam dug harder.

The pounding continued.

He wanted it to stop, _needed_ it to stop. So Sam did something he had promised himself he never would. He practically tore the cabinet door off its hinges, and then pulled out a razor, quickly pushing the blades out. He picked one up, and poised it over his wrist, but then he paused. He knew he couldn't turn back after this. Every other wound hadn't been this severe. He wouldn't be able to justify this to-

Pound _._

The blade sliced across his wrist without another thought. He winced at the intense pain, pleading that it would be enough.

 _Pound_ _ **.**_

Slice.

 _ **POUND.**_

Slice.

 _ **POUND!**_

Slice…

All Sam could see was red, but all he could hear was fists against the door. And someone calling his name.

"Sam!"

Slice.

"Let me in, Sammy!"

Slice. Red began to turn to grey.

"SAM!"

And then- grey turned into nothingness. Sam didn't even feel himself falling.

* * *

 **AN:** Again, I know this was intense, and I'm very sorry if this was hard for you to read, but I personally feel that if we avoid talking about difficult subjects forever then they are never going to be solved. The next chapter is the last, and I am doing my best to make sure that I wrap every uncomfortable loose end, because I know a lot of you are counting on me to do so, so I'm working very hard to ensure that I don't let y'all down. Speaking of next chapter, here's a-

 **Sneak Peek:** "'I will fight Heaven and Hell and everything in between to protect you, but I can't keep fighting if you're not gonna fight with me… Please. Even if you can't fight for yourself, fight for me. I-I need you, little brother.'"

If you have anything you'd like to say about this fic so far, please feel free to review. I hopefully won't be long before I post the final chapter, but until then, take care, everyone.


	3. Always Keep Fighting

**AN:** Originally, I did plan on wrapping up this story in three chapters, but after reading all of your reviews I decided that this story deserves more exploration and importance, so this isn't quite over yet. This will end up being just mildly AU, only in the sense of how Sam ends up in the institution he was in during the episode _Born Again Identity._ Oh, and the story title was inspired from a lyric from the Skillet song, _Hero._ This chapter will be taking place from Dean's point of view to explain where he'd been when Sam nearly killed himself.

* * *

It was a miracle. Dean had woken up before Sam, which meant he was actually sleeping for once. Seemingly peacefully too. Dean didn't plan on taking this blessed moment away from Sam, so he arose from his bed as quietly as he could. He figured Sam could use all the sleep he could get, but in the meantime Dean would go to pick up some food. He took the time to write Sam a note in case he woke up before Dean got back.

Having finished the note, Dean hopped into the wretched car he was being forced to drive. Damn, he missed his baby. He took his time trying to hunt down the best place to get Sam and himself some lunch. He usually had a good instinct about those kinds of things. He eventually passed a quaint looking diner, and the "homemade pie" sign sealed the deal. He ordered himself a burger, and then some salad with some really complicated name for Sam. He'd gotten one with some meat in it since the kid looked like he was losing weight right along with sleep.

Dean patiently waited for the food to be prepared, and he also purchased one of the pies for later. Mission complete, Dean got back in that horrible car that he so greatly abhorred. The glorious scent of grease permeated through the car and Dean's nose, making Dean all the more eager to get back to the room and dig into his food.

The motel was at last in his sight, and he pulled into the lot. Once he reached the door he opened it slowly in case Sam was still sleeping. When he saw the empty bed and no Sam in the rest of the room his heart did briefly stop, but then he saw the light on in the bathroom through the crack under the door.

"Grabbed us some food." Dean announced as he set the bag on the table.

Normally, Sam would utter a, "thank you," or a, "be right out." But Dean didn't get either of those this time.

"Sam?" Dean tried again.

Nothing.

Worry beginning to skyrocket once more, Dean hurried to the door, not at all surprised to discover that it was locked, but it still astronomically increased his panic. He started rattling the knob.

"Sam!"

Silence. Not the silence, anything but the silence. The silence meant that Sam wouldn't, or _couldn't_ tell him something.

"Let me in, Sammy!"

That's when Dean heard it. The faintest sound, but it wasn't his little brother's voice like he had been hoping for. It was equally as familiar, but not in a good way. He'd heard that sound before, but not just on Earth, in Hell as well. Dean felt his stomach tighten when what it was dawned on him.

Carving.

"SAM!"

Then Dean heard the crash, and it definitely wasn't someone dropping a toothbrush off the counter. It was a body falling.

Immediately throwing every other thought other than _"Save Sammy"_ out the window, Dean slammed his shoulder against the door, which promptly splintered, and Dean rushed to his now fallen brother's side. He didn't let himself think about how the long stripes running down Sammy's arm were undeniably self-inflicted. He could deal with that once he got Sam conscious once again.

"Hey, c'mon, buddy, wake up." Dean ordered in a whisper as he harshly patted Sam's face in hopes of rousing him. He quickly ripped off the sleeves of his own shirt and started tying them around the still gushing wounds. If Dean didn't keep moving, he was going to lose himself as well as his brother. He then checked for a pulse, heart sinking to his feet when he felt it gradually slowing every second.

"Sammy, don't you dare do this to me!" Dean couldn't help his voice from breaking that time. He saw Sam's eyes briefly move beneath their lids, and he felt his hope starting to return.

"You did this cuz you think it makes Lucifer go away, right? Helps let you know what's real? Let me tell you, Sam, I really wish I wasn't real right now, cuz then I wouldn't be hurting so damn much. But I am, because you are my brother, and you are _all_ I've got left. So you better open your eyes, or else I'm coming for you in the after-life and kicking your ass all the way back down here if I have to." Dean knew he was crying now, but he didn't care. "Sammy, please, look at me."

Sam's eyelids fluttered once more, and then- thank God or whoever the hell was left to care- Sam opened his eyes.

"D-D'n?" He muttered, still clearly out of it.

Dean dropped his head in relief, wiping his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me. Alright, you're gonna hate me for this, but I've gotta get you to the hospital."

"N-nooo…" Sam moaned, turning his head away and starting to close his eyes again.

"You didn't give me much of a choice, Sammy." Dean said as he hauled Sam to his feet, wincing at Sam's pained cry at the abrupt movement.

"No, he-he'll find me!" Sam panicked, thrashing desperately, albeit weakly. Dean worried for his wounds as Sam writhed, praying that he wasn't going to make things worse.

"He's not gonna find you because he isn't real!" Dean shouted. He wasn't sure that Sam was going to listen otherwise. "I know you're scared, I know that every damn day you're scared that he's gonna somehow take you away from me. But he'd have to pull you from my cold, dead hands because I am _not_ letting you go. I am willing to do whatever the hell it takes to keep you safe, so don't you even think about checking out on me. I will fight Heaven and Hell and everything in between to protect you, but I can't keep fighting if you're not gonna fight with me." The tears were freely flowing at this point. "That's all I need you to do. You have to fight to live, you have to _want_ to live. Please. Even if you can't fight for yourself right now, fight for me. I-I need you, little brother."

Sam's glassy eyes met Dean's tear filled ones, guilt gleaming within them as well. Words were still beyond Sam at this point, but he gathered the strength to nod. Fight for himself? Maybe. Fight for the world. More likely. But fight for Dean?

Always.

* * *

Being in the hospital was uncomfortable. Once Sam had been stitched up by professionals, and was conscious again, he was hounded with questions like, "when did this all begin," "why was he hurting himself," "was he actively trying to end his life?" For once, Sam was inclined to be truthful. He'd love if these guys could give him _something_ to make _him_ stop.But deep down he knew that if he started babbling about how Satan himself was constantly screaming at him that he'd be admitted somewhere he'd likely never be able to get out of. Or worse, somewhere where they wouldn't let him see Dean.

So he did what Winchesters did best. He lied. He lied about why he'd been hurting himself, and when it had started, but he was honest about how he wasn't trying to kill himself. He'd been in hospitals enough times to know exactly what the doctors wanted to hear in order to let him go.

Unfortunately, they didn't seem to buy it. He could get away with lying about the fast recovery of a broken leg just fine, because an exaggeration about that wouldn't leave his well-being and life on the doctors' consciences. So regardless of what he told them, they seemed bent on keeping him for observations. But with their faces currently on the most wanted list, the Winchesters knew how dangerous it would be for them to stay in one place for too long.

So they broke out. Dean whisked away his broken brother, physical wounds healing, but the mental scars were the ones that warranted Dean's attention. They'd gone back to the motel and quickly paced up all traces of their presence and went back to the car, driving far away from those memories.

"How you doing, Sam?" Dean asked. He watched Sam's face scrunch a bit as he pondered the answer. Dean felt relief at the fact that Sam was truly thinking over his response, rather than spouting out the classic yet empty, "I'm fine."

"Better." Sam said after quite a lot of thought. "Think all the drugs are still in my system, so I'm feeling pretty good right now." He added lightheartedly.

"What about Lucifer?"

Sam paused again, because despite all the drugs pumping through his veins, Lucifer was currently stretched out in the back seat, kicking Sam's chair and singing _You Are My Sunshine._

"He's still there." Sam admitted. "But I know that he's not real." He couldn't help but flinch when Lucifer started belting out the rest of the verses.

"Think it's gonna stay that way?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Sam answered truthfully. "I realised that pain isn't what grounds me anymore."

"What is?"

Even as the Devil wailed out the chorus for the ninth time in five minutes, Sam managed to smile.

"You are, Dean. Even in the Cage, Lucifer could never get you right. He'd pretend to be mom, dad, Jess, Bobby, everyone we've ever met. But whenever he tried to be you- he couldn't do it. He could never pretend to care about me like you do."

"Stone number one, Sammy." Dean agreed, clapping a caring hand on Sam's shoulder. "If Lucifer starts acting up again and you can't tell what's real or not, you talk to me. I don't care if it's three in the morning, or if I've got a machete halfway through a vamp's neck, you say my name and I will be there for you. I thought I lost you to Lucifer once, and I am never letting that happen again."

Sam smiled, truly believing that he would be getting better soon.

"Wishful thinking there, bunk-buddy." Lucifer said. At least he'd stopped singing. "What are you gonna do to banish me now?"

"No matter what happens, I'm gonna always keep fighting." Sam said to both Lucifer and Dean. He then spoke only to his brother. "Cuz you helped me beat the Devil before, so I know we can do it again."

"You're such a girl, Sam." Lucifer huffed, resuming his assault on Sam's chair, this time with a relentless banging of his hands to the tune of _Smoke on the Water._

Sam closed his eyes. _"Stone number one. Dean is real, which means that Lucifer isn't. Stone number one, stone number one."_

The song suddenly stopped, and Sam stiffened when he felt icy hands clamp onto his shoulders, and Lucifer hissed in his ear.

"So my plan to get you to off yourself didn't work. Doesn't matter. There are other ways to kill you. Grant it, maybe not as fun ways, but still." Sam could practically _feel_ the hatred in Lucifer's voice. "You thought spending every damn second of sleep with me was bad? Then I will grant you a reprieve. No more nightmares, no more dreams of any kind." He squeezed Sam's shoulders together even harder. "Because I am never going to let you close your eyes agin." The chilling tone vanished, and Lucifer giggled. "Better get used to me being here, Sammy. Cuz you're stuck with me until the day you die. And according to sleep studies, that should be in about-" He checked his non-existent watch. "Two weeks." He went so far as to kiss Sam's cheek, but Sam was too paralysed with fear to pull away.

Maybe this wasn't going to be an easy fix after all…

* * *

 **AN:** Not sure how much longer I plan to make this. I'm hoping I won't be too long before I update again, but I wasn't planning on expanding this fic, so I'm still going to have to work out exactly where I'm taking this. I've got the rough idea for the ending sketched out in my head, I just need to get there. And I did force myself to pump out enough of next chapter in order to give y'all a-

 **Sneak Peek:** "But what would Dean be able to do about the mental pain? Nothing, so Sam saw no reason to tell him about it."

Again, I love hearing from you guys about this story, you have inspired me in a lot of ways for this fic. I shall see you all again soon.


	4. Definition of Pain

**AN:** Hey, all. I am seriously so sorry about the wait for this chapter, but considering the subject matter, the story as a whole has been taking quite a toll on me. Not to mention, the past few weeks have really been screwing with me in general. All motivation just completely gone, lack of sleep, a lot of personal things I don't need to get into right here, but rest assured I am still going to finish this story. Y'all deserve that much from me, so I more than eagerly present you with the fourth chapter. I hope you enjoy, and I really am sorry about how long it's taken me to post it.

* * *

It had only been three days, but Sam could hardly blink without Lucifer screaming at him just to ensure that he stayed conscious. He was constantly jumping at every single sound, real or imaginary, and he'd freak out even more so at anyone touching him unexpectedly. He'd nearly decked Dean in the face when he'd tapped his shoulder once.

But did he tell Dean about any of that? Of course not. Hurting himself was something that had put his life in immediate danger, Sam could see that now. But what would Dean be able to do about the mental pain? Nothing, so Sam saw no reason to tell him about it.

Not like he could now anyway, considering that Dean was currently sleeping. It was nearly ten though, so Dean would be waking up any minute. But that new day marked yet another sleepless night. He was at four now. That number haunted him, because as of that day, it meant, it he was lucky, he had at most- one week left to live. But when had Sam ever been lucky?

Dean's groan snapped Sam out of his miserable thoughts. He got up to the motel's little kitchen before Dean was fully conscious and poured him a cup of coffee from the pot he had made about an hour prior. He didn't want it to look like he'd been up all night again, so Sam warmed up the coffee so it would seem fresh.

"Morning." Sam called once he saw Dean sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Dean gratefully took the mug from Sam's hands when he held it out to him, and had a greedy sip.

"How'd you sleep?" Dean asked.

"Like a baby." Sam replied in earnest, because despite the connotative definition of the phrase, infants, in fact, do not sleep well, or very often. "You?"

"Awesome. These are some real nice beds." Dean said as he patted the mattress.

"While you were sleeping in I managed to find a hunt." Research was about all that Sam did now. It was the only way he could keep himself occupied and distracted from Lucifer.

"How close?" Dean asked.

"Couple towns over. Looks pretty shifter-y. People tortured almost to death by their loved ones who claimed that they were out of town. Seems pretty open and shut."

"You feeling up to it? I know you mentioned that Lucifer's still around."

"And I'm gonna stay that way." Lucifer chimed in as he continued to throw and catch a bouncy-ball off the walls, the inconsistent thudding having been what had kept Sam awake at night this time. Annoyance was certainly preferable to Lucifer's other methods of keeping him up though…

"I'm alright, Dean, I've got a handle on him. I know what's real right now, I can take a simple hunt just fine."

"Alright, I trust you, Sammy." Dean smiled at his brother. Kid really seemed like he was doing okay. Of course, Dean was completely unaware that Sam's alertness was solely due to the relentless numbers of red-eye coffees he had downed the past few days. Sam was probably more caffeine than person at this point.

"Let's pack our stuff and head out." Sam instructed.

"Sounds good to me." Dean said, and he gathered up all his gear and clothes, as did Sam. "Let's roll."

* * *

The stench of the sewers felt hauntingly familiar to Sam. Anything that remotely reminded him of human indecency subconsciously had him reaching for his scars, but he managed to stop himself before he fell back into his old habits. That didn't mean he didn't want to or miss hurting himself, but at least he was able to acknowledge how wrong he had been.

"Hey, Sammy. I thought of a loophole." Lucifer whispered from behind Sam. "What if you let yourself get captured by the shifter? Then when it tortures you it won't be your fault that you get hurt."

What really sucked was knowing that since Lucifer was only a product of his imagination, that meant that _Sam_ was really the one thinking that.

A hand rested on Sam's shoulder, but the brief panic quickly faded when Sam realised that it was Dean's. His brother pointed at the fork in the tunnel ways, and Sam figured he wanted to split up. Dean trusted him on his own. He was strong enough to handle this. But just as Dean started directing Sam where to go-

 _"THE ITSY-BITSY SPIDER CRAWLED UP THE WATER SPOUT!"_ Lucifer started scream singing again, making Sam jump, but more importantly, making him miss Dean's instructions.

"What?" Sam whispered at his brother.

"I said I'll take-"

 _"DOWN CAME THE RAIN AND WASHED THE SPIDER OUT!"_

Sam closed his eyes and squeezed his hand into a tight fist. He hated this so damn much, and he felt more than helpless.

"Sam." Dean said gently, gaining his attention. Dean had a pretty good idea of what was happening, so instead of trying to use words, he pointed at himself, and then at the left path, then he pointed at Sam, followed by the right path. "You got it?"

Sam nodded. He was grateful that Dean had found a way around his current bout of crazy, but it didn't make him feel like any less like a child that still couldn't be trusted to walk on his own. Still, he heeded his brother's directions and headed down his designated path. He was just about to be impressed with how far he'd gotten, but then Lucifer started to continue his song, apparently having the same thought.

 _"Of course he had the same thought, he's in your head, Sam."_ He told himself as the song resumed.

 _"OUT CAME THE SUN AND DRIED UP ALL THE RAIN!"_

Sam involuntarily twitched one hand towards the other, but then he quickly stopped himself. He took a moment to pause his steps and close his eyes. He inhaled a long, deep breath through his nose, held it for a moment, and then slowly let it out through his mouth. He repeated the process several times until he felt like he had a better hold on his sanity.

Along with hunting research, he'd also looked up methods on calming himself down and coming back to reality when he got like this. Another suggestion involved fiddling with a rubber band, but he didn't trust himself not to snap it against his wrist if things got bad. Supposedly that's what smokers attempting to quit did whenever they had a craving, but Sam had sworn that he was _not_ going to use pain of any kind to cope anymore.

"Behind you!" Lucifer suddenly shouted. Sam whipped his head around, gun at the ready, only to be caught off guard once more as Lucifer burst out laughing.

"I can't believe you fell for that!" Lucifer was even slapping his knee as he cackled with manic glee. "Why would _I_ of all people warn you that you were about to get attacked by a monster? I can't wait to watch all that crazy either push you over the edge or get you killed." He winked.

Sam felt his nostrils flare in irritation. Lucifer really wasn't making this easy for him. Not that Sam even remotely expected any different, but it was still annoying as hell.

"Sammy, there's-!" Dean's voice came down the tunnel, only to be suddenly cut off by muffled shouting. The shifter must have gotten Dean! Sam hurried back to find his brother. He briefly froze at the horrifying image of Dean already tied up and gagged on the floor with the shifter mirroring his brother's face wielding a knife over him. Dean made eye contact with Sam, and they were wide with worry, and he tried to yell out what seemed like a warning.

Sam didn't understand. How could that shifter have possibly gotten Dean tied up so quickly? Unless-

Without even finishing the thought, Sam whirled around and fired his gun at what he knew would be a second shapeshifter, also mimicking Dean. It quickly dodged out of the bullet's way, and managed to tackle Sam to the ground. It grappled for the gun in Sam's hand, and Sam grabbed its arm with his free hand, which then promptly began to slip away, causing Sam to lose his grip. The shifter's shed flesh fell to the ground with a wet splat, and Sam felt his stomach tighten in unease. He nearly lost the battle of not throwing up when he felt a rain of teeth falling onto his face. He suddenly jerked up his hips, which then flung the shifter off of him, and he hurried to the other one, which had started carving into his brother.

Sam yanked what he knew to be Dean's hunting knife from its hand, and it glared at him with eyes so cold, and uncaring, and _not-Dean._ Sam swung the blade in an arc towards its chest, but it had apparently downloaded Dean's sparring memories because it quickly caught his wrist, and they each started fighting for the upper hand.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." The shifter chided. "With all that crazy in your head how can you be so sure that any of this is real? How do you know that the real Dean isn't somewhere else, being tortured, bleeding, _dying?"_

Sam's upper lip twitched. "I don't." With that, Sam pulled his hand free, and plunged the knife into the shifter's heart. "But I've got a pretty good idea."

"You sure about that?"

Sam's gut clenched at that voice. If they had Dean's memories, then they would know about himself and Lucifer, so of course would be cruel enough to use that against him. He turned around, flinching just the slightest when he saw not one, but _two_ Lucifer's smiling at him.

"Wow, and I thought _I_ was a creative torturer, but this guy," The shifter whistled, presumably impressed with Lucifer's memories, no doubt of the Cage. "This guy taught you the damn definition of pain."

"I sure did." Said the real Lucifer. No, not real, neither of them were real, dammit! Well, the shifter was real, but it wasn't really Lucifer. Neither was the other one, but-… Crap. Sam felt his head start fuzzing with confusion, which certainly wasn't helped by the missing five nights of sleep. He _knew_ what he was supposed to do. He just had to run up and kill the fake- _shifter_ Lucifer, and he'd be fine. Okay, not fine. He'd still have real- no, _hallucination_ Lucifer, and- Oh, God, this was so- _too_ confusing! He grabbed his now pounding head, and felt his breaths quickening, as well as becoming more and more shallow.

 _"Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't-"_

"S'm!" A voice broke though Sam's thoughts.

Dean. The one who was always there for Sam, the only constant in Sam's screwed up life, his stone number one. Dean had helped him overcome Lucifer once before, he could for damn sure be the reason Sam did it again.

Snapping back to himself in that instant, Sam charged the shapeshifter, and thrust the blade through its heart. He watched its eyes go wide with shock and pain, and then once Sam ripped the blade free it quickly collapsed to the ground. He stood a little taller as he looked down at that mockery of his worst nightmare's dead body. He then moved over to Dean and cut him loose.

"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked the second he'd gotten his gag off.

"That felt good." Sam said with a hint of a smile. "What about you, you're the one that got hurt."

"Nothing a few stitches and a couple of beers won't fix. You sure it didn't get you at all?"

"All good this time. Well-" Sam looked at the hallucination Lucifer now holding an impromptu funeral for his counterpart. "Physically."

Dean nodded in understanding. "Sounds like you could use a couple of beers too."

 _"God, yes."_ Sam thought. Maybe if he got drunk enough he'd actually pass out and get some damn rest.

"Using alcohol to cope. What else is new?" Lucifer scoffed. "Try whatever you like, but we both know you're not going anywhere that I won't be able to follow."

Sam closed his eyes. Just a few more hours, and then he'd be asleep.

He hoped…

* * *

 **AN:** I put a lot of emphasis Sam's breathing in this chapter, because when in the midst of, or to prevent, panic attacks, the breathing is the best thing anyone can focus on in order to calm down. There are plenty of other tips, including little tricks with rubber bands, but I figure that Sam has too much pride to do much about his mental health unless it gets really bad again. And let me tell you, in the next chapter, it gets really bad again. I do have a little bit of it written out already, so here's a-

 **Sneak Peek:** "He had continued to dink in hopes of blacking out, but all the countless beers had done for him was further blur the lines of reality."

I'm hoping for next chapter to be the last, but considering how this story has decided to lengthen itself once before, it may end up happening again. I'm hoping not to be as long with the update as I was this time, so I will do my best to prevent that from happening. Thank you all for being patient and understanding about it, and I hope you will continue to enjoy this story. If you are, please let me know in a review, and I will see y'all again soon.


	5. Desperation Stronger than Guilt

**AN:** Just as a **warning,** there is drug use in this chapter, and all previous warnings still do apply as well. That said, I really don't know much about drugs, but I tried to do as much research as possible to make this as close to accurate as I possibly could. This chapter is the start of me leading into the canon episode _Born Again Identity,_ so some of what occurs here is taken directly from that episode, but I did make a few changes so as not to make you guys feel like you waited several weeks just to read something you've all already seen before. Oh, and I've been reading the novel _Beloved_ by Toni Morrison, which doesn't make a lick of sense, but her style might have rubbed off on me a bit here, so I apologise if this gets confusing at any point. With all that out of the way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Sam was running. Although, "stumbling with great velocity" was probably a more accurate way of putting it. He passionately envied his brother who had passed out about four beers ago. Once Dean had fallen asleep, that had left Sam alone with his hallucination. He had continued to drink in hopes of blacking out, but all the countless beers had done for him was further blur the lines of reality. He'd finally had enough of Lucifer's incessant taunts, so Sam had done the only thing he could think of. He ran.

Rather than Lucifer's ramblings, he heard the rush of blood in his ears. He panted heavily, feeling the chill air huffing in and out of his mouth, as opposed to choking on blood or- other things. His muscles ached from the exhaustion at this intense excursion being forced on them, and not due to Lucifer trying to break the record of how quickly he could shatter every one of Sam's limbs.

But Sam knew he couldn't run forever.

By the time he finally ran out of energy, he had found himself in an alley, so exhausted that the obvious drug deal unfolding in front of him didn't even faze him. The dealer, however, seemed pretty pissed as his client quickly handed him a wad of cash, and then booked out of there.

"Dude, get the hell away from me."

That was when Sam's legs decided to give out, and he slid down against the brick wall. His head lolled on his shoulders, barely having the energy to keep it up at all.

"Hey!" The guy snapped in front of Sam's face, but he was too far gone to flinch. "Are you deaf? I said leave me alone!"

"It-it's okay." Sam slurred. He could hardly control his words, the alcohol having numbed his tongue long ago. "Nobody's after me."

"Then what the hell you doing running up in here like that?"

The question lifelessly floated around in Sam's head, and Sam couldn't make sense of how to answer. All he wanted was to sleep, not be interrogated by some tweaker.

"Jus'- leave me alone." Sam shook his head, now letting it fall into his hands. He didn't hear footsteps fade away, which meant that the guy was still there.

"What did you take anyway?" He asked.

"Nothing." Sam grumbled.

Drug dealer scoffed. "Shut up."

"Was there ever a point in your life where you _weren't_ perpetually lying through your teeth?"

Sam further curled in on himself, because it hadn't been the guy that had asked him that. It had been Lucifer. Sam started anxiously rubbing his hands, practically wringing his wrists until he thought he felt the flesh beginning to peel away.

"Look at that!" Lucifer said with excitement. "You're halfway there to hurting yourself again! Harder, Sam. Use your nails to really get under the flesh, and _then_ drag your hands down. You'll lose a lot more skin that way. It's definitely my preferred method. You remember, don't you?"

Sam's groan was more like a scream that didn't have the capability of unleashing its full power.

"I just need some rest!" Sam cried out in desperation, again holding his head in his hands, eyelids heavier than the Impala.

"Hey." The dealer said with mild intrigue in his voice. "If you want to knock out, I can knock you out."

Sam hated how he momentarily hesitated. "N-no. I don't need that."

"It's nothing crazy, it's totally legal stuff. Little more intense of a dose, but it's no big deal. Promise your teeth aren't gonna start falling out afterwards or anything."

"Not that you'd mind." Lucifer commented. "I've made you lose your teeth in just about every way possible, so it wouldn't be anything new, huh, bunk-buddy?"

"Here." The guy sifted through his pockets, and then pulled out a small cup, and poured a thick liquid into it, and then held it out to Sam.

Before his shaky hands could reach it, Sam stopped.

"How much is this gonna cost?" Sam undoubtedly knew the dangers of making deals without knowing the true price.

The guy gave a somewhat wry smile. "You seem like you're going through a lot, and I'm feeling generous, so tell you what. Your first one's free."

Sam felt his nostrils flare in irritation. He saw right through the clichéd dealer line. They almost always offered the first hit at no cost, hoping that it would lure their victims into getting their high, and then chasing it for the rest of their lives. Dealers saw it as an investment. And Sam felt true disappointment in himself for a split second in knowing that he was about to fall prey to this warped system.

But his desperation was stronger than his guilt. So before he could even begin to talk himself out of it, Sam tipped the cup back and drank. The thick, syrupy liquid cascaded down his throat with the speed and consistency of a slug. It took all he had not the gag at the texture and the taste. Its effects were quick though. He felt his head fuzzing and eyes blurring rapidly. The rest of his body soon followed suit, starting with the numbing of his fingers and toes. The lack of feeling started spreading to the rest of him, and he didn't even notice that he had almost fallen over until he felt the dealer's hands on him.

"-sy, -dy." The man's voice was distorted, making Sam feel like he was underwater. Not drowning though, not gasping and fighting for air, simply floating. "-'s get-… car."

The scenery around Sam danced in waves as he drifted somewhere new. He'd been moved into a sitting position, he felt so at ease. The garbled voice returned, now next to him. A face smiled at him, raising a cup, Sam knew that cup, he _liked_ that cup, and then the smiling man took the cup to his own mouth, and drank its contents as well.

As more time passed, Sam felt himself slipping further and further away. The world around him blurred, and he found his head tipping forward until his chin rested on his chest. And best of all, his eyes started slipping shut.

But just before he could drift away entirely, Sam heard a crash that snapped him out of his blissed daze, along with a rain of shattered glass sprinkling down onto his torso and lap. He jerked his head up, mouth quaking in horror at the sight of an approximately two-foot pole jutting through the windshield, merely inches away from impaling him. He leapt out of the car to investigate, but by the time he'd gotten out, the pole was gone. Then who-

" _Good morning, good morning! We talked the whole night through! Good morning, good morning to you!"_ Came Lucifer's voice before the question even fully crossed Sam's abused mind.

Sam threw his hands up to his ears as utter helplessness flooded him once more. With still numb legs, he started running again, and his plugged ears did nothing to impede Lucifer from calling after him.

"I thought you liked my singing!"

 _"Just keep running."_ Sam told himself.

"I told you, Sam, no matter what you did, I'd always be there! Dreams, drugs, or death itself won't be able to save you! You're _mine._ Always and fore-"

The last of Lucifer's taunt was unheard due to it being overpowered by a piercing shriek, followed by a harsh _thud._ It wasn't until Sam looked up at the sky and felt his bones throbbing in agony that he pieced together that the screech had been brakes, and that the thud had been his body colliding with the vehicle. He'd been hit by a car. But the worst thing about it wasn't the obviously bruised or potentially broken ribs, or the pounding of his possibly concussed head. No. It was that he. Was still. Awake.

Jumbled voices swam around in his head, but they were nothing more than sounds. The stressed and unstressed and clearly panicked syllables didn't form words inside Sam's brain, but the tiny shred of it that was once known as logic told him that the voices were likely the drivers of the car that had hit him and were frantically calling 911.

Everything was a haze from that moment on. A high and undeniably more frightened voice sobbed to seemingly no one, and then the other voice, lower and significantly more calm, spoke to Sam, but he still found himself unable to make sense of the words. Hands waved in front of his face, of course he could only assume that the pinkish fast moving blur in front of him was in fact a hand, but Sam couldn't bring himself to respond to the voices, or the hand, or any of the other attempts to communicate with him with anything other than blinks. Long, slow, pleading blinks. Pleading for what, he wasn't exactly sure…

There was, however, an upside to this immobilising state that Sam found himself currently trapped in. It was that his spinning head didn't have the energy to conjure up his hallucination of Lucifer to mock him right now. Had he possessed the capability to, Sam would've laughed at the fact that he was actually _grateful_ for having just been hit by a car.

More time passed, and then Sam saw bright lights flashing, accompanied by an irritating wailing sound. His mind still had enough sense to connect the two and configure that it was an ambulance. He felt himself being lifted soon after, and he groaned as he felt his body protest at the movement by flaring up in pain.

Voices garbled above him yet again, in seemingly gentle but still urgent tones. One stood out though, and started becoming clearer.

"…my."

Clearer.

"S…"

 _Clearer._

"Sammy."

Too clear. Too loud. Too familiar. Oh, God.

"There's my little bitch. I was afraid I'd almost lost you back there."

Unable to do anything else, Sam released a pitiful whine of fear. He couldn't this right now. He couldn't.

"Gotta say, I like you best when you put up a little bit of a fight, but I can still have my fun this way too."

Terror and utter helplessness pushed Sam out of his haze long enough to finally croak out one word. _The_ word.

"D-Dean…"

* * *

 **AN:** Cruel note to end on, I know. But unlike the rest of the story, I not only have the next chapter started, but it's actually completely finished in my handwritten copy. So not only does that mean that you won't have to wait for a long time, but as usual, it means you get your-

 **Sneak Peek:** "'So, what's the plan to get me out?'

When Dean dropped eye contact with Sam, he knew something was wrong. But no gut feeling of worry could ever have prepared Sam for Dean's next words.

'There isn't one.'"

Next chapter, and I really mean it this time, will be the last. I know that this chapter definitely got confusing and jumbled, so if anything was too weird or just unclear please don't hesitate to ask me, I know this one was undeniably a little out there. If there's anything else you would like to say, please let me know in a review, or private message, and I will happily get back to you. Thank you for your patience with me again, and I really will see y'all soon.


	6. Road to Recovery

**AN:** This is finally it, y'all. The last chapter. I can't thank all you guys enough for all the follows, and favourites, and anonymous reviews, and private messages that have helped give me the strength to never give up on this story. I appreciate each and every one of you, and hope that if you're dealing with the kinds of issues addressed in this fic that you can take something away from it, and maybe start getting yourself help, in whatever way that may mean. Enjoy this final chapter, everybody.

* * *

A whirlwind of faces and voices continued for what felt like, and may have been, hours. There came a point when the voices started making sense again, and blurry shapes started to form into something _real_ at last. Along with sight and hearing returning to him, Sam soon recongnised the smell of wherever he was: anesthetic. That, plus the fact that everything surrounding him was a dull white or grey, led him to the conclusion that he was in a hospital.

Only- it didn't feel like a normal hospital. He wasn't on one of those adjustable beds, there were no machines tracking his vitals forming a barricade around him, he didn't hear the frantic footfalls of busy doctors pattering outside the door, which appeared to be locked, also odd, but strangest of all, he was alone. Nobody laid on a bed several feet down from him, there wasn't a nurse sitting beside him to alert someone about him waking up. This was all so- _different._

The heavy-looking door then swung open, and Sam's heart soared at the sight of the person that had angrily burst through it. Despite all the undeniable pain he was feeling, Sam managed a smile as he spoke that person's name.

"Dean."

Sam thought that Dean's clearly irritated expression would fade once he saw that Sam was okay. But it didn't. The ire still glowed in Dean's eyes, but they also combatted the care and relief that always manifested when it came to Sam. Dean seemed as much at war with himself as Sam's mind was with reality.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean finally said when he made it to the chair beside Sam's bed. Maybe it wasn't anger in Dean's eyes after all. Confusion? Not quite. Disappointment. Perhaps. Then it dawned on Sam. Exasperation.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Sam frowned. He was worried now. Were his legs broken? Was he paralysed? Would he never be able to hunt again?

Dean dropped his head, closing his eyes as he ran a hand over his face. There was an increasingly tense and uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again.

"They found drugs in your system, Sammy."

Sam felt his stomach drop. "Oh."

Dean's head snapped up. The anger was back. "'Oh?' Is that seriously all you have to say? You told me you were okay, Sam!"

"I-I was."

"Really? Cuz I didn't think that 'okay' people just took a bunch of cough syrup for no reason, but I guess I was wrong. I'm so glad you opened my eyes to this whole new world of what 'okay' means!"

Ashamed, Sam's voice got a little quieter. "I-I just wanted to sleep, Dean."

Sighing, Dean brushed a hand through his hair, his classic move to try to calm himself down. "You should have told me. If I'd known that you weren't sleeping I would've-"

"You would've what?" Sam interrupted. "Dean, you and I have done a lot of impossible things over the years, but getting the Lucifer inside my head to shut up long enough for me to get some rest isn't gonna be one of them. All telling you would have done was make you blame yourself, and then you'd stop sleeping too."

Dean huffed. "Right. Because me getting a call that my brother's in the hospital after getting into a car accident and apparently been doing drugs is _much_ better than me losing a couple hours of sleep trying to find a way to help you!"

Sam shrank back a bit. He knew he had no argument against that. "You're right. I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. So- what's the plan to get me out of here?"

When Dean dropped eye contact with Sam, he knew something else was wrong. But no gut feeling of worry could ever have prepared Sam for Dean's next words.

"There isn't one."

Sam swallowed, thinking he had just figured out what was happening. "N-nice try, Lucifer. But Dean would never just abandon me. I know that this isn't real."

"Dammit, Sammy, yes it is!" Dean snapped. "I wish it wasn't, but it is! I wish I didn't have to keep waking up in the middle of the night because I heard you screaming. I wish I never had to break into a hotel bathroom to see you bleeding out on the floor because of a hallucination that I can't do anything about. I wish I didn't have to start every damn day thinking that it could be your last because your screwed-up head keeps coming up with new ways to try to get you to kill yourself!" Dean's head lowered again, but even as he hid his face, the quaking shoulders still gave him away. He was crying. "I-I can't do it anymore, Sammy. I've tried every damn thing in the book to try to help you, but you and I both know that nothing I do is gonna fix this. This isn't something that we can keep shrugging off anymore. You need help that I can't give you. We spent our whole lives helping other people, but I am begging you, little brother, for once, let someone else help us. Please."

Sam felt his own throat tighten at Dean's confession and plea. "Wh-what about you?" His voice shook as much as Dean's shoulders. "What are you gonna do if I'm here?"

"I'm gonna keep looking." Dean said it as a solemn vow. "I'm gonna look all over the country, hell, I'll go all over the damn globe to find someone who can help. Faith healers, rogue angels, whatever it takes."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Sam. Not this time. I have watched you suffer enough to be able to skip past the lecture about the dangers of making shady deals with people this time. It's got risks, I know that, but every day of our lives has risks. And I am done just sitting by and pretending that you're okay, because you're not. But it ain't your fault, so you don't need to feel bad about it. You're done hiding and lying about it because being honest and getting some professional help is the only chance we got at getting you better. So promise me that just because I won't be right next to you this time that you're still gonna do everything you need to to fix this."

As much as the idea of Dean leaving him hurt, Sam knew that this wasn't a hallucination for only one reason. And that was that he had hope. And it wasn't the kind of hope he felt when Michael would challenge Lucifer to another fight, allowing Sam about five minutes of no pain. It wasn't the kind of hope he'd felt when that drug dealer told Sam that he'd be able to get him to fall asleep. No. This was hope, real hope that promised a possibility of a better future, not a mere glimpse of bliss and nothingness. If being honest was all it took to get Sam there, then he'd do it.

"Okay, Dean." Sam said. "I promise I'll do whatever I have to in order to get better."

At last, that got a smile out of Dean. That soft, caring, and gentle smile that Lucifer could never perfect no matter how many times he had tried. "You know I'll be back, and it'll be with good news."

Sam nodded. "I know. And you'll call too, right?"

"Of course I will. I'm still your stone number one, Sammy."

With the promise of fixing himself at last, Sam smiled too. "Th-thank you, Dean."

"Yeah, thanks for finally taking the hint and giving us some alone time." Lucifer said, overexcitement and malice practically dripping from his voice.

Sam's throat tightened again, this time in fear. "It-it's not gonna be easy, is it?"

"The road to recovery never is." Dean admitted knowingly. "But you've literally been to hell and back, so I know that nothing, and I mean nothing, is gonna stop you from making it. You can do this, Sam."

He still inwardly panicked a bit at the idea of being without Dean and trapped with Lucifer for God knows how long, but if his big brother truly believed in him, then Sam knew that he could do this. If his brother's faith had gotten him to stop Lucifer before, then Sam had no trouble doing it again. Only this time, his reward wouldn't be getting himself eternally trapped in the Cage as the Devil's chew-toy. No, it would be something incomparably better.

It would be peace.

* * *

 **AN:** As far as I know, you guys haven't been to hell and back like Sam Winchester, but that doesn't mean that you're not all strong enough to overcome the trials in your own lives. For some of you, that trial may be admitting that you need to seek out help, and I'll be honest, that can definitely be scary, but believe me when I say that the end results are worth the temporary fear.

I know that the ending of this story may seem almost- unfinished, but I wanted the last note of this to be the emphasis that Dean isn't an expert, he doesn't know what to do when it comes to all the problems inside Sam's head. And that's okay, that's why there are trained professionals for when your friends or family can't give you the help that you need. And I have personally never been to a hospital specifically designed for treating the kinds of issues Sam is going through, so the last thing I want to do is inaccurately portray that. This is not a heal-all fic, and I am also not an expert. Not by a longshot. But all I can hope is that you all take something from it in one way or another, and that's all I that could ask for.

I sincerely hope that you have all enjoyed this fic, and that you take its message to heart. You are strong even when you admit that you've been weak, and there are people that can help you through it. I think that's about all I can say on this matter, but if anyone out there would like to talk to me about anything maybe relating to this fic's topics, please don't hesitate. Again, I'm not a professional, but I am more than willing to listen. Take care of yourselves, always keep fighting, and until next time, carry on, my wayward sons.


End file.
